


The House of Cards

by A_Fine_Piece



Series: A Thin Red Line [32]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Deceit, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Kimono, Plotty, Prostitution, Scheming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 04:50:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3596988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Fine_Piece/pseuds/A_Fine_Piece
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lady Kuchiki meets with Lord Kyōraku. Byakuya's family learns of the restructuring efforts.  Renji visits a house of assignation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The House of Cards

He's made a career of equanimity. Honor. Duty. Loyalty. He towers over her, mind set on lofty thoughts, and he speaks with a steady sort of seriousness. Words come freely, but they are weaved with such precision that they are almost meaningless.

Hisana, however, pretends, a skill she has honed from another era, another time. As much as she loathes that part of herself, it has proven most useful over the years. Where titles and money hold no weight, the ability to  _talk around_  the problem always seems to be an appropriate anodyne, if not the ultimate cure.

Mid-conversation, he asks for a walk, and she obliges. So, walk they do. He speaks, eyes to the sky, and she listens closely.

 _He wills what he wants_.

Hisana knows the type. Hell, she's  _married_  to the type. Then, she stops, dead.

Breath catches in her chest, and her limbs go cold, go leaden.

 _Indeed_ , she finally realizes, eyes drifting to the side as she watches him. Lord Kyōraku is very much like her husband. His words are softer, more gentle in their delivery. But, he possesses a remoteness not unlike Byakuya. Perhaps that is why she has not been as mindful as she would have otherwise been. There is a routine in their steps, in the way they speak to one another, that seems eerily familiar.

And, when her senses return, she sees the crowds have parted. Eyes watch, silent in their judgment, but Hisana can feel the burn of rampant speculation. Lips dam the words that will spill forth the moment they pass.

Hisana flashes her fan, eyes glued to the ground. Two flicks of her wrist spell out her disapprobation. Very few, however, will know. Fewer yet will  _care_.

"—I trust the Houses will fall into line once we have a proposal of how to restore power to the Chambers—"

His voice seems faraway, as if she is hearing it through the sound a thousand lapping waves. But, she understands his meaning all the same.

"Yes, milord," she says, nodding to herself. "I believe that will satisfy their concerns and ease the hand on the purse strings."

His gaze slips from the sky to her. It is a brief, penetrative look, one that draws the blood away from her skin and ushers in a chill.

 _How peculiar_ , she thinks to herself. Captain Kyōraku and Lord Kyōraku share the same earthy brown eyes, but there is a touch of iron in the Lord's gaze. It sweeps across your flesh like a threat. Captain Kyōraku's gaze, however, has a note of mischief, but, even then, it is paired with  _warmth_.

Lord Kyōraku grins slyly down at Hisana.

His intentions and motives seem utterly unknowable to her. Surely, the Lord does not smile without reason. What that reason is, however, is lost on her. For now.

"My Brother can be very insistent," he murmurs, lowering his head to ensure their privacy.

 _Oh._  Suddenly, it hits her, like a brick to the face.  _He realizes that I am not the one behind this particular project_.  _But…._  Frantically, she tries to thread together her thoughts, retracing her last words, until she realizes where she gave herself a way.

_The funding…._

Of course, he would know that she had no interest in the funding sources for the Gotei 13. At best, her relationship with the military has been one of studied  _ambivalence_. Currently, she vacillates between blinding indignation and wordless confusion over the body's reasoning and decision-making. Not that either the ruling class or the Chambers ever made  _much more_  sense in how they wield their powers. But, at the very least, the nobility and the Chambers have a lower body count.

"Milord is very perceptive," she replies before the silence becomes unseemly. "But I assure you, Captain Kyōraku only made a  _suggestion_. A very good one, at that."

Lord Kyōraku tilts his head, like a beast who has found amusement in its prey. A knowing look creases his forehead and burns in his eyes. Again, Hisana is unsure of how to read her walking companion's mood, but the shiver inching down her spine tells her that whatever the Lord is thinking is likely troublesome.

"What does Lord Kuchiki make of my errant brother's  _suggestion_?" The Lord's eyes flicker to the sky, as if he is whetting his thoughts to a fine point.

Hisana plays false, knowing that the Lord is applying pressure to obvious fault lines. He's hoping to trigger an earthquake, but she's already a mile ahead of him. Years of prodding has made her particularly sensitive to inquiries about her relationship with her husband.

"Lord Kuchiki contacted you, did he not?" she asks, playing the wide-eyed ingénue with expertise.

Lord Kyōraku's gaze immediately drops, and he spies her out of the corner of his eye with silent intrigue, as if he is holding his breath.

Sensing her opening, Hisana continues, "I believe Lord Kuchiki has been playing too much koi-koi at the Eighth." She sells her perfidy with a fluttering of her fan and a good-natured smile.

The Lord's eyes narrow, and a cold silence follows as he tames his thoughts. It is clear that he doesn't  _quite_  buy the implication that Lord Kuchiki is forcing his wife to do the Gotei 13's bidding. In fact, with each step, Hisana waits for the inevitable follow-up question.

"How intensely odd," he begins, stroking his chin, pensively.

Hisana lifts her head and gives him her full attention, knowing all too well that the Lord's thoughtful veneer is merely a feign. "How so, milord?"

"If my worn, old mind does not betray me, milady is telling me that Lord Kuchiki has given her this order, leaving me to believe that my brother contacted Lord Kuchiki about this arrangement?"

Hisana's smile widens. "How wise is Lord Kyōraku."

A wolfish grin splits the Lord's lips as he considers her with a keen eye. "And here, the common assumption is that milady is the one holding the reins on the Kuchiki enterprises."

Hisana's gaze falls to the stones lining the ground, and she forces a blush to her face. "The common assumption is just that, milord.  _Common_."

Lord Kyōraku chuckles lightly, and, tucking his chin down, he glimpses her with a strange gleam lodged in his eyes. He doesn't believe her, and, upon this realization, Hisana's heart sinks like a stone.

"What a fine house of cards, milady."

All Hisana can do is smile at the Lord's perspicacity. No use trying to cover. Then, she sees it. Perhaps the brothers do share at least one trait: Both are wily as hell.

"Perhaps Captain Kyōraku isn't the only one fond of playing games." Her observation comes across as light and breathy, but it is the stark, pointed truth.

The Lord's devious smile melts into a genuine one, and the lines of his face become softer. "Not in the slightest."

"Lady Kuchiki!" A howl breaks across the market followed by a flurry of motion and a flapping of sleeves.

Hisana grins at the spectacle and hides her happiness behind the leaves of her fan. Relief has never been so sweet and so hurried.

* * *

"Renji!" Before Renji has the chance to barrel his way up to Lady Kuchiki, his forward motion is yanked back with great force. Feeling his arm drag him back in space, Renji stumbles over his feet, but manages, just barely, to avoid the fall.

"Yumichika!" Renji cries. Irritated, he whorls around to face his former superior. His brow twitches over a squinted eye. His fingers go rigid, claw-like. "Get the fuck off me!" he growls, tearing away from the man's clutches, and he rolls his shoulders, hoping it will shake the heat of Yumichika's touch from his skin.

Scowling, Renji opens his mouth, ready to give the Fifth seat a tongue-lashing, but before he can belt out a sound, Yumichika interrupts him with a chastising, "Are you  _blind_?"

Renji's brows pull together, and he sneers at Yumichika.  _He's probably making some joke about my hair_ , Renji grouses to himself before wheeling around to find  _both_  Lady Kuchiki and another noble staring at him.

_Shit!_

His heart stops. His breath stops. His  _brain_  stops.

Renji just stares, slack-jawed, wide-eyed, and utterly dumbfounded.

"Pardon my  _friend_ , Lord Kyōraku and Lady Kuchiki. Sometimes he  _forgets_  just  _where_ he is," Yumichika continues, gesturing to Renji.

_What the hell?_

The words continue playing in his head, growing louder and faster with each repetition. With every looping word, Renji's gaze drifts from Lady Kuchiki then to Lord Kyōraku, as if staring at them will provide him with the clarity he desperately craves.

Unsurprisingly, it  _doesn't._

And, after what feels like a small eternity, Renji shakes his head, hoping the sheer force of his head-shake will  _unstick_ his brain, like some kind of broke-down record player. To his relief, it works! Unfortunately, the next observation is just as unhelpful as the last.

_Who the hell is Lord Kyōraku?_

It is dumb-obvious that Lord Kyōraku, by virtue of his name, must be related in some way to Captain Kyōraku. But, that's the beginning and end of possibly  _everything_ Renji knows of the man.

_Have I ever seen this guy? More importantly, what is he doing with Lady Kuchiki?_

Renji again goes back to staring at the two, but, this time, his gaze shifts to and fro with  _purpose_. Upon discerning that Lady Kuchiki does not appear distressed, Renji bows politely.

"Apologies," he begins, but, before the word forms on his tongue, Lady Kuchiki has already swatted it away.

"Speak freely, Vice Captain," she says, all smiles and gentle glances.

Renji's eyes flicker to Lord Kyōraku, who stands composed and still at Lady Kuchiki's side.

 _Nobles_.

Renji represses the urge to shudder.

_They're all so… creepy._

Shrugging away the tingling sensation crawling up and down his back, Renji straightens his spine and gestures to the silk hung over his arm.

Hisana bows her head and stares into the yellow and white fabrics. "Very lovely. I believe they belong to Rukia." She lifts her head and cocks a brow. A look of worry creases her visage. "I trust Rukia is well."

The implication is an obvious one—if Renji has Rukia's robes, then  _where is Rukia_? More importantly, why is Rukia  _not_  in her robes?

Reading both questions written on the Lady's face, Renji lets loose a hoarse,  _guilty-sounding_  chuckle. Panicked, he begins scratching the back of his neck. "Rukia is fine, Lady Kuchiki," Renji reassures her with a sporting grin. "But, I may have," he pauses before strangling on his nerves. He tilts his head down, and his eyes search the ground for fragments of his resolve.

Right when he finds the words, Yumichika elbows him  _hard_  in the side. "Please, my Lord and Lady, Renji is a bit of an oaf but  _usually_ …"

"I ruined them." The admission rolls off Renji's tongue between heartbeats. Summoning all of his courage, he meets Lady Kuchiki's gaze.

The fury that he expects does not heat her stare. Indeed, she seems quite perplexed. Her thin brows thread together, and her eyes narrow as if she is trying to see through a thick fog. "If you have Rukia's ruined kimono, then where is Rukia?"

_Ah, the obvious question…._

Renji's cheeks flush, and he begins to nervously rub the back of his neck. "Ah, well, she sent me to bring her kimono to her."

Hisana nods her head. "Ah." She won't hear another word. Apparently, she is five steps ahead of him in terms of devising a solution to his ill-articulated  _problem_. "You are in luck." The Lady flashes a toothy grin. "I happen to know the best restorer of kimono in Soul Society." Without hesitation, she slides the fabric from Renji's arm to her own.

"I—I—please," Renji stammers before settling on a deep bow to demonstrate his gratitude.

"Not another word," Hisana says, lifting a hand as if she can physically quell the flood of Renji's gratefulness.

"Perhaps you should ask to escort the Lady?" Yumichika mutters rather  _loudly_  into Renji's ear.

Immediately, Renji's head snaps up. "Yes, of course, I gladly offer to escort Lady Kuchiki." He barely gets the words out in working order.

Hisana turns to Lord Kyōraku, who responds with a polite nod of his head. "I enjoyed the Lady's company," the Lord says, bowing politely before her. "I hope we may speak more  _candidly_ soon."

"Of course, Lord Kyōraku," she says, bowing her head. "Lord Kyōraku has honored me with his deep insight and intellect."

The Lord gives both Renji and Yumichika a passing glance before taking his leave.

"You really don't have to—" Renji begins anew, but the Lady interrupts him with a wave of the hand.

"I was going to visit the House anyway today."

"House?" Yumichika echoes, intrigued, as if he has made a delicious hypothesis that  _must_  be tested. "I mean," he says, respectfully bowing his head, "if Lady Kuchiki wouldn't mind my question."

Hisana smiles benignly at Yumichika's  _attempt_  to respect the social mores despite hailing from the Eleventh, which has all but beaten such niceties out of its men.

"Yes," she replies simply. "Would Officer Ayasegawa like to join us?"

"Of course!" he responds before she has the chance to finish.

* * *

Byakuya waits patiently in his office. Try as he may, he simply cannot focus his attention to the stack of forms begging for his signature. He  _must read_  them before signing, he reminds himself when he feels the routine of it all begin to train his fingers.

A frown hangs on his lips, and it deepens with each breath. It does not matter, he tells himself, rallying his spirits. He is not a man who takes defeat lightly. But, maybe, right then….

"Lord Kuchiki," his cousin purrs as she flings back the door to his office. Dressed in the royal blues of their clan, she flutters into the room like wild bird, squawking and throwing its feathers.

Without invitation, she drapes herself across the couch stationed facing the door. Once settled, she props herself up on her elbows, which, in turn, rest on the arm of the couch, and she peers at him with a feigned intimacy.

A devious sparkle lights her eyes and a lop-sided curl of her lip tell him everything he needs to know: The House has learned of his wife's involvement with the restructuring of the Chambers.

He does not want to ask. He already  _knows_. The response is going to be  _mixed_  at best. At worst? It is a scandal. And, his family only knows one way to respond to a  _scandal_ , and that is  _extravagantly._

It will be a season of  _many_  conferences, shadow or otherwise.

"So, where do I begin?" she croons, like a bird whose song is too good to keep all to herself.

"Hopefully, out of the door," he murmurs, gaze glued to the forms and brush steady.

"Cousin!" She throws her head back and lets out a throaty chuckle. "You are too cruel!" The rustling of her silks nearly eclipse her voice as she stirs.

He only catches the shimmer of blues in his periphery. He just cannot bring himself to care. Not yet, anyway.

"Now, I know you don't mean that. So, I will begin with the more fanciful speculation. I know, secretly, you  _want_ to know despite those  _serious_  frown lines."

Byakuya exhales a heavy breath.

"I hear you.  _I hear you_ ," she says, flinging her arm up and waving away his dissatisfaction like a conductor keeping her orchestra in tempo. Unfortunately, she sorely underestimates the stubbornness of his nerves.

"So, the  _ridiculous_  rumor that has  _everyone_ , and I mean  _everyone_ , in a  _frenzy_  is that Lady Kuchiki is having a raucous affair with Lord Kyōraku. I mean. Can. You. Believe. It. How fantastic!" She chuckles wildly to herself, as if the idea proves intoxicating. "Like the Lady would leave  _you_  for  _him_? What fools!"

Byakuya's cool veneer breaks. His eyes shut. His brows knit together. His brush goes still. His breath falls heavy over the fresh ink.

His family….

He expected a negative reaction to the news of his wife at the helm of reconstruction efforts, but  _this_? How crass.

"Apparently," Asagao continues in the midst of her censorious revelry, "the Lady and the Lord were seen walking together in the market this morning. There were pictures, dear cousin.  _Pictures_! Can you imagine what will be printed in the society pages? Auntie is livid, dear cousin. Just livid!"

"I arranged the meeting," Byakuya's low baritone blankets the room like a fresh dread.

His cousin, however, is perfectly  _immune_  to his effects. She merely draws her silks closer for  _warmth_ , but she continues on her merry way. "Oh," she says, lips forming a small "o." Intrigued, she cocks her head and waits for him to elaborate.

His gaze flickers across the room to find her peaking at him from behind the couch's back. Propping her weight in a forward manner on her forearms, she meets his gaze and grins. "That brings me to the second, more  _reasonable_ , bit of gossip that has the House in a tizzy!"

He stares at her effervescent display in utter dismay.

While he truly believes there is a deep malevolence swirling inside her soul, it seems more diffuse than his aunt's. Indeed, Asagao is an opportunist, through and through, willing to take her amusement from  _anyone_ , not just Hisana specifically.

"The Family is  _convinced_  that Lady Kuchiki is in the midst of a very treacherous power play with the Chambers. More specifically,  _rebuilding_  the Chambers." Asagao sets her chin on her hands, which rest atop the couch's arm, and she watches him like a bird watches a particularly wiggly worm.

Byakuya, however, isn't squirming.

It is just as he suspected. The family is  _aware_  of the changing dynamics. That can only mean. . . .

"They are very  _worried_  about the Lady." Asagao's voice falls heavy on the word "worried," carrying it out a syllable too long.

 _Worried,_  Byakuya repeats to himself. It sounds almost  _morbid_  as he thinks about it.

His fingers tighten around the wooden handle of his brush, and his muscles lock. The wood's tension begins to give way in his grip, but he stops just before the inevitable splintering.

Asagao's lips thin into a stiff rictus of playful contempt. "It won't be long,  _dear cousin_ , until the rest of the clans find out."

"Is that a  _threat_?" In an instant, his gaze is on her, cold and piercing.

She smiles so wide, her eyes squeeze shut, and she giggles. "So serious, dear cousin." She waves her hand, as if it will spare her from the crushing weight of his reiatsu. "I'm just stating the obvious. Not that you don't have reason to be concerned. When the  _others_  learn of the Lady's involvement, they will surely see this as an affront. Especially,  _now_ , since it appears that the Lady is  _colluding_ with Lord Kyōraku. Just tell me, dear cousin, who's next? The little Shihōin lord? Lord Konoe? He'd be a willing lapdog for the Lady. How about a  _Shiba_? I  _hear_ they are all the rage this season." Her smile thins at this last part, and her eyes harden.

There are spies in the House of Kuchiki for her to know such information.

Byakuya stares at his cousin. An impassive expression flattens the lines of his face, but his eyes, narrow and burning bright, betray his animosity. He does not speak, too afraid what will bubble up to the surface if he dares to find the words. At the moment, he feels explosive, and Asagao's words prove to be a potent accelerant.

"A storm is brewing, milord. It is a storm on many fronts. You won't be able to weather them all."

And, with a self-satisfied grin, Lady Asagao stands, straightens the fall of her robes, and takes a step toward the door. She is just about to leave when she pauses, hesitantly, and turns. "I almost forgot," she says.

With a cool confidence, she fishes inside her sleeves and withdraws a small, wrapped parcel. "A gift for the boys."

She places the present on the nearby table, and she gives a small parting nod of her head.

"The walls are thin, and the shadows are deep and myriad. Mind the shadows, milord.  _Mind them well._ "

* * *

Renji plops down into a seated position. His legs cross at the ankle, and he leans, torso hovering over his legs. His elbows rest against his knees. A fiery burn stings at his cheeks, turning them a bright shade of red as he counts the tatami straws.

 _A house of assignation_.

The thought sets his stomach aflutter. He has never been to one before. Sure, he has seen them, dotting the streets of the pleasure quarters, but…. In  _his mind_ , at least, he isn't really the type to partake. No. To Renji, these strange structures have an even stranger mystery to them. The women, the men, the  _patrons_ —all seem so entirely inscrutable to him. In Inuzuri, there were  _brothels_ , sure. Unwitting and  _unwilling_  girls, boys, men, and women were  _taken_  by crooked men with crooked teeth and bloated faces, and they were placed on display for  _others_ ' pleasure.

Renji hated those places. What they stood for. What they were. What happened inside of them.

 _This is no different_ , he thinks to himself, brows furrowed and lips sloping into a scowl.  _Yeah, maybe the room is better. Maybe it smells nicer. Maybe the clientele isn't as violent. But…._

He lifts his head to find Yumichika and  _Ikkaku_ , who they picked up along the way.  _More like he barged in…._

Renji surveys the souls in the room. He, Lady Kuchiki, Yumichika, Ikkaku, and a young girl sit in a small circle. The girl—who cannot be more than a teenager—makes light conversation with Yumichika, who peppers her with questions about fabrics and the latest styles. She obliges him with a radiant smile and an airy giggle.

Lady Hisana eyes the door with hidden intensity. Most would miss it completely, but not Renji. He knows that look well. Rukia is particularly fond of it. Now, he knows where she gets it.

On cue, Hisana straightens her back and puts on a friendly face just as the door pulls back on its track.

"Hisana!" A woman's voice crashes over them like a thunderclap, entering the room before her own round figure. "Come, come," she continues, pulling Hisana to her feet by the top of her arm. "Look at you!"

Before Hisana can respond, the rotund woman twirls Hisana around and inspects the Lady with heavy scrutiny, like a horse trainer searching a young steed for confirmation faults.

"The pregnancy weight is  _just melting_  off," the woman observes and gives a pleased nod of her head.

Hisana lets out a hoarse chuckle, and her lips part, but she is quickly interrupted.

"Please tell me that you have come to your senses and plan to leave that  _man_." The mistress purses her lips as she gives Hisana another onceover.

"I don't—"

"—I haven't been able to find another. There are other girls, of course. Some of them are promising," the mistress begins, a note of sour disappointment hanging in the air, "but none of them draw the spirits like you did." She then waves her hand toward the young girl, who sits demurely beside Yumichika. "No offense,  _deary_."

Submissively, the young girl lowers her head and smiles dutifully into her lap. Her lips may curve up, but Renji can tell from the curve of the girl's neck to the lack of smile lines around the eyes that the girl suffers.

Hisana, ever polite, tries again, "I don't—"

And,  _again_ , she is interrupted by the bull of a woman. "I really should have asked for more money. The Kuchiki are  _loaded_ , but I was foolish," the woman continues.

"Mistress, I think that—"

"Come, child," the mistress interrupts, yet again, before looping her arm around Hisana's arm and ushering her to a sitting cushion. "I'm sure you will  _make it up_ to me, eh?" Never missing a beat, the woman drops into seiza, shakes back her sleeves, and claps her hands three times.

In an instant, three more girls appear at the door's threshold, where they wait for their mistress's approving nod before scurrying into the room.

A flurry of silk, the fluttering of feminine motion, and the tinkling of kanzashi set Renji and Ikkaku on edge. Yumichika, on the other hand, nestles into the fray, like a duck to water. A brightly-colored, ostentatious and incredibly contented duck. He ogles the finery—the expensive tea, the luxurious fragrance of incense, and the appropriately appointed room. Everything screams  _money_  from the fabrics to the muted and expertly painted fusuma depicting lovebirds perching on the branch of a blossoming sakura. No detail has been left to chance. The ambience, the positioning of the tatami, even the dimensions of the space itself has been  _chosen_  with a particular purpose in mind.

It all unsettles Renji. The mere  _thought_  that the proprietor is  _manipulating_  his feelings rings every siren in his head until he can't help but recoil. No matter, he tries to push his prejudice aside.

This isn't really his sort of scene, he tells himself. He grew up in the slums. He's content to bask in the sun from the comfort of a knotty and coarse tree branch. He finds freedom in  _space_ , the kind that goes until it touches the horizon, the kind that you can only find in nature. This manmade finery makes him feel  _small_ , insignificant. It shackles the spirit and condemns its reach and breadth.

Floundering for a moment, Renji's eyes shift to find Hisana. She knows what to do, how to behave, which looks to give, and what words to use. She  _blends_ , like Rukia, like a veritable chameleon.

She sits as delicately as a plum blossom budding from a sprig. Nothing seems to perturb her as she settles into place. Her movements are languid, but there is a hidden tension in her limbs and hands as she pours the tea for them. When she serves him, he watches, enamored. For a flicker, he catches the glimpse of the burn of muscle as it slides into taut position.

Hisana gives a demure bow of her head, and, then, she turns her attention to the House's mistress, a plump woman with graying hair and a round face. "I appreciate your hospitality."

A throaty chuckle pierces the air, and the woman waves the pleasantry aside. "Lady Kuchiki, the pleasure is  _ours_." The woman lifts her head, and, with an exacting glance, she surveys the males. Displeasure dims her expression for a brief moment, but she recovers with subtle grace.

Apparently, the mistress of the house is not accustomed to  _their_   _kind_.

_Surprise._

_Surprise_.

"We were so pleased to learn of the heir _s_ , Lady Kuchiki," the woman says, shooting Hisana a measured stare as she sips from her tea bowl.

Hisana smiles softly into her tea at the sentiments.

"I trust they are healthy and thriving  _boys_?" The mistress cocks a brow at the word, "boys," which she draws out a beat longer than necessary.

Renji buries his smirk behind the rim of his tea bowl.  _Of course the woman would be pleased._  Two boys will mean appropriate patrons for her establishment. Briefly, Renji wonders what Hisana thinks of the woman's wiliness. His gaze slips to the right, and he glimpses the Kuchiki Lady.

 _Nothing_.

Just like Rukia, Hisana brandishes the emotion  _expected_  of her when the circumstance demands it.  _An inherited trait_ , he thinks.

"Yes. The twins are well," Hisana says, diplomatically.

"I assume they will come into their own in due time."

Renji cringes. The woman's insinuation falls heavy on that observation.

Hisana, however, replies with a demure, unsuspecting smile. "They will, and I will support them as only a mother can."

"You think they'll come here?" Ikkaku blurts out the question that Hisana and the Mistress have very closely skirted. That is…until  _now_.

Rubbing the back of his head, Ikkaku cranes his neck to peep out the door, which is slightly ajar. Distracted, the Third Seat of the Eleventh never sees Yumichika's elbow coming until it is digging deep into his side.

Renji shakes his head at his  _friends_ , who immediately take to bickering. Loud, angry protests sound from Ikkaku, while Yumichika responds with snarky, barbed words that are as pointed as the tip of his elbow.

"Who are these  _fine_  men?" The mistress's voice hardens at the adjective, making it clear that she does  _not_  find her company suitable for her establishment.

A dark smile draws the corners of Hisana's lips up. Gesturing to Renji, she begins, "This is Vice Captain Renji Abarai of the Thirteenth. The gentleman to his left is Officer Ikkaku Madarame, and the remaining gentleman is Officer Yumichika Ayasegawa, both are members in good standing of the Eleventh Division, the squads' elite fighting unit."

The mistress scoffs, "I am quite aware of the  _Eleventh_   _Division_ , Lady Kuchiki." Evidently, the mistress does not take too kindly to the insinuation that she may be unaware of important pieces of information.

"Of course," Hisana nods her head in a soulful arch.

"Are these men seeking  _respite_?" Her eyes flicker to each in kind. None of them seems to  _please_  her. Her gaze is equal measures censorious and shrewd, easily stripping Renji of his protective armor and confidence.

"No, ma'am," Hisana begins. Her stare is distant and unfocused. "Vice Captain Abarai and I come seeking the services of Mr. Hoji. You see, there was an incident with a kimono. I promise you that I shall compensate you handsomely for your services."

Relief breaks across the mistress's visage, washing the hard, probing lines of dread. "Oh." Immediately, her eyes brighten, and she rubs her hands together, as if she imagining the  _feel_  of money pressed against her palms. "If that's the case—"

"There is also that personal matter that needs attending," Hisana says, voice dropping perceptibly in volume, and her eyes dart to the door just as a female-shaped silhouette falls across the walls from outside the room.

"Of course," the mistress says, voice low. Amusement smoothes the creases of her forehead as she follows Hisana's gaze. "Come, my dearest Hisana. Let us attend to those  _personal matters_."

The mistress is surprisingly spry on her feet given her advanced age, Renji thinks to himself as he watches her roll back on her heels and into standing position.

"Please, excuse us, gentlemen," Hisana murmurs gently as she follows suit. "Renji, the kimono?"

Wordless, he offers her the silk. "Thank you, Lady Kuchiki," he says, bowing his head deeply at her charity.

Once the Lady and the Mistress are out of earshot, Ikkaku surveys the room, makes a sour face, and asks, "So what the fuck is this place?" Ikkaku takes a sip of tea, makes a face at the taste, then turns his attention to Yumichika.

Yumichika gives his companion a pointed glare before turning to the three courtesans and engaging them on the rousing topic of  _silks_.

Renji picks up his tea bowl. His gaze drifts to the fragrant water, and, upon seeing his muted reflection in the tea, he frowns. Something seems  _awry_ , but he can't quite put his finger on it. Strange shadows dance across the walls, and a chorus of whispers hide more than they reveal. Occasionally, Renji catches a stray word, which does nothing but spur his wild imagination.

 _What business does Lady Kuchiki have here?_  He wonders as he slowly comes to the realization that the ruined kimono was nothing more than a ruse to conceal the Lady's true motivation for coming.

"I really don't get it," Ikkaku continues, "You can't do anything until the third visit?"

Yumichika rolls his eyes at Ikkaku and gives an irritated flip of his hair, "It's more than  _that_ ," he grouses, as if it takes  _too much effort_  to explain the  _reasons_  behind the tradition. "The patrons of courtesans aren't just interested in indulging their baser urges, you philistine. The women are accomplished entertainers and conversationalists."

"So they come here to  _talk_? Seems like a steep price to pay for  _conversation_."

"The conversations here are  _confidential_ ," Yumichika states drily, as if that makes it all better somehow.

It doesn't, but, before Ikkaku can say another word, everything slowly begins to click into place in Renji's head, like a key opening a lock.

His gaze immediately darts to the door, and he leans forward.

 _The conversations are confidential until they're not._   _Until someone applies the right amount of pressure. Until someone with enough clout makes a dogged inquiry. Just ask the Second._

For some reason, Lady Kuchiki seems the type to have both the clout and the dogged persistence to get whatever confidential information she desires.

_But, why?_


End file.
